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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517872">Things We Choose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27'>DoubleL27</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Discussion of Abortion, Established Relationship, F/F, Past Abortion, Queer Themes, discussion of sex acts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:55:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span>Twyla was a magpie that was easily distracted with shiny things that she wanted to collect. They didn’t have to be outwardly shiny. Things that drew Twyla’s attention could be as simple as beer stained tarot cards or a woman whose ability to put on her own makeup was questionable at best.  There we’re collections of things that Twyla used to decorate her space. Things like rocks or pine cones or acorn caps. Twyla had a whole set of the plastic, solar dancing toys that lined her kitchen window. Something had likely caught her eye and she had taken off. </span>
</p><p>Or</p><p>Twyla disappears on Stevie while shopping and some serious questions come up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stevie Budd/Twyla Sands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Goshi Sprinkle Prompt Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Things We Choose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Several things, this turned in a slightly serious direction, as Stevie/Twyla tends to for me, but I'm still really pleased with it. Deals with themes people might find sensitive, as in the tags. Please take care of yourself.</p><p>The original prompt was: tumblr prompt involving one of them pouting bc the other wandered off while they were in the bathroom link: https://flortician.tumblr.com/post/189029362053</p><p>But the way I remembered it was: Partner A leaves partner B hanging in dressing room </p><p>So, we have something completely different. Stevie does pout slightly, or stomp and be sarcastic, but that's her version of pouting.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There were many things that Stevie Budd disliked greatly: feelings, visiting the dentist, workouts, hangovers, doctors appointments and dealing with people. Today, she was being forced to confront one of her great dislikes, clothes shopping and actually trying them on, which somehow always roped in dealing with people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thanks to David making a game of poking things through the holes of her clothing while she was wearing them and using that to force his way over to empty her closet, Stevie was now in need of new clothes. Twyla had nixed the idea of her shopping online and trying stuff on when she wanted to wear them and forgetting to return stuff, which was Stevie’s preferred method of shopping. Twyla had gotten excited at the prospect of shopping together. Who was Stevie to deny her girlfriend? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So now here she was, in harsh overhead lighting, trying on clothes in a tiny closet feeling like she had the weirdest tiny hobbit body that had ever lived. The jeans were baggy the way she liked but not as comfortable as the ones that David had taken scissors to after finding a hole in the crotch she had been carefully hiding. The shirt was fine but still stiff. Somehow the whole thing made her hips look huge and her tits tiny and it wasn’t right. She needed Twyla. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie ducked out from behind the curtain and poked her head out to look at the seating area to find no Twyla. Stevie came around the doorway and looked around, no sign of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me!” came startled and shocked voice from behind her and Stevie turned to see the elderly attendant looking at her with horror. So, the swear had not remained an indoor thought. Good, good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie stomped back to the dressing room as best she could in socked feet. She should have said yes to Twyla coming into the dressing room with her in the first place. But all Stevie had thought about was the awkwardness of trying to fit two adult humans in this space and how she would have wanted Twyla to also get naked.  As that was not the purpose of the mission, and the attendant had hawk eyes and a big mouth, Stevie had said no and left her to sit in the waiting area. Stevie did remember telling Twyla she would be called in if needed. Now that she was needed, Twyla was nowhere to be found. Stevie put on her boots rather than walk through the store in socked feet and headed back out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla was a magpie that was easily distracted with shiny things that she wanted to collect. They didn’t have to be outwardly shiny. Things that drew Twyla’s attention could be as simple as beer stained tarot cards or a woman whose ability to put on her own makeup was questionable at best.  There we’re collections of things that Twyla used to decorate her space. Things like rocks or pine cones or acorn caps. Twyla had a whole set of the plastic, solar dancing toys that lined her kitchen window. Something had likely caught her eye and she had taken off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am, you can’t leave the dressing room with clothes on,” the dressing room attendant chastised as she moved further away.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, when the fuck had she leveled up to Ma’am? Stevie whirled around and shot the lady behind the counter a glare, her arms spread wide. “You want me naked?” she shot back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie’s voice was loud and challenging and it carried across the store and there was a little thrill of glee that swept through her. Since the advent of the Roses she had leaned to take up space in the world that had never seemed to want her before.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I Umm...I...I meant th-the store clothes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you got my purse in the dressing room so let’s call it even,” Stevie deadpanned, offering the woman a shrug before turning around. “Just gotta find my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exploring the jewelry counter on one side of the dressing rooms turned up nothing as did prowling through the lingerie section on the other.  By the time she hit the edge of the housewares there was only one thing to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie let out a tentative “caw-caw” and waited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had started as a joke after Mrs. Rose’s social media take over. They (Patrick and Stevie) started using it as a greeting, mostly to annoy David who would glare and ask “Could you not!?” Turned out that a quiet caw-caw was quite distinctive and you could find people at long distances, like a subtle olly-olly oxen free. Stevie had worked to train Twyla to use it during just such situations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A faint “caw-caw” came back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie prowled through the store, moving past housewares and kitchen stuff and fully into the children’s section. Willowy and still, Twyla was bent over a table, a basket in one arm filled with trinkets she had collected.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey.” A frown quickly flitted over Twyla’s face and was replaced with a sunny smile. Her affectionate voice took all the sting out of Twyla saying, “That won’t do.” Stevie nodded in confirmation and Twyla looked her over. “Where’s your own clothes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In the dressing room,” Stevie drawled, unable to keep the edge out of her voice, “where I left it when I came out for someone’s opinion only to find them not there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some reason, all of Twyla’s softness never seemed to be popped by Stevie’s pointed barbs. “Oh, yeah, I found this,” Twyla dug in the basket and came up with a flowy babydoll top in sage that would look amazing on her and Stevie felt her mouth go a little dry. “And then I found this.” A little more digging revealed a rainbow pair of briefs. “I thought you could wear it with the purple strap on and the nearly see-through flannel we managed to save from David. I could give you a blow job. Thought it might be sexy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah. Yeah that would be, yeah,” Stevie agreed, mumbling stupidly because her brain had short circuited as Twyla had described the fantasy. Sexy was an understatement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then just some other little things,” Twyla continued, waving her hands over </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The basket was filled with random items, rainbow metal straws, a lunch bag, a few pairs of earrings, headphones and some other things buried beneath that Stevie didn’t want to take the time to think of. She was still stuck on sheer baby dolls against freckled skin and blow jobs in briefs while wearing the double headed dildo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you think of this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla peeled up an onesie from the table that would have looked impossibly tiny to Stevie before she had become part of the sprawling web of people that made up Twyla’s family. Having been with her for at least three new cousins being added to Twyla’s clan, Stevie was now more aware of these things than she had ever realistically thought to be. She also had a new appreciation for the savage honesty and drunken nature of small children. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie tilted her head, considering. Twyla had a habit of picking up little things for many of her family members, thoughtful little gifts that fit the person she selected them for oddly well. This one Stevie couldn’t begin to place. “I think it’s too small for any of the babies in your family right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s going to have another one soon enough,” Twyla returned with a shrug, reconsidering the yellow outfit. There was something incredibly soft about Twyla’s face as she inspected the frogs sprinkled over it. After a few seconds, Twyla continued absently, “I think Shoshona might be pregnant again. She’s down to one pack of cigarettes a week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Stevie responded, still unsure why this particular piece caught Twyla’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get it,” Twyla affirmed, almost a whisper, and added it to her collection. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla’s free hand snagged Stevie’s, their fingers slotted together and Stevie allowed herself to float along in Twyla’s wake. Something about the onesie and the way Twyla had been starting at it kept nagging at her. Stevie wanted to go back to happy thoughts about sexy times but the way Twyla’s wide eyes had been soft and almost wistful kept invading Stevie’s thoughts. Stevie couldn’t make out her exact feelings but her skin prickled and her stomach felt a little queasy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On their way by she gave a smug wave to the attendant as Twyla lead on into the dressing room, dropping her basket of treasures by the desk. The onesie lay casually over the lingerie in the basket, staring at Stevie. She bit down at the urge to stick her tongue out before following Twyla down the narrow hall and behind the old red curtain of her room. Stevie shrugged out of the flannel as Twyla tsked over the fact that Stevie had left her purse in here unattended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once her head was covered by the tee shirt she was removing, Stevie found the courage to ask, “Hey, Twyla, do you ever think you want to have kids?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie hoped to hell she had sounded almost bored. She cast her eyes to the floor as she discarded the shirt. She wasn’t ready to look at Twyla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Twyla breathed and Stevie screwed her eyes shut, turning her back to Twyla as she undid the pants. The few seconds while Twyla considered the question felt like an eternity to Stevie. Though, even with her back to Twyla she could call to mind her pensive look. “I mean, it’s always been an eventually thing, you know. Like, eventually I’ll have one,” Twyla repeated as if that made things clearer. “Everyone in my family has at least one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Stevie murmured, pulling another pair of pants off of the pile and stepping into them.  If she had learned nothing else from David it was that sometimes if you just didn’t really respond they would tell you more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I guess, I don’t know. Maybe.” Stevie changed a look at Twyla now and she was rewarded with a soft smile and a small shrug. “Sometimes I think I missed my window.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Stevie asked, picking up a tee shirt to put over her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Twyla said, snatching the shirt Stevie had thought perfectly adequate out of her hands. “This one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla watched critically, her head tilted, as Stevie tried on her pick of soft black fabric that cut in just slightly. “Much better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie was rewarded with a black and green flannel which she slipped on. This one was cosy. Twyla’s nimble fingers took Stevie’s shoulders, strong and sure. Stevie didn’t resist when she was spun to look in the mirror, Twyla behind her, chin resting in the top of Stevie’s head. “See.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twyla, you said you think you might have missed your window. What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Twyla’s face faltered, the frown poking back out momentarily and her eyes darkened, but her smile quickly recovered, like the sun after a passing cloud. “I got pregnant when I was twenty. I was fooling around with Jake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was not—that was not what Stevie had expected at all. She stared back at Twyla’s rich brown eyes in the mirror and tried to find something to say, if not profound or sincere, then just not the wrong thing. Her mind drew suspiciously blank. Stevie feared anything that tumbled out would be the exact wrong thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Stevie had a vague memory of Twyla and Jake disappearing at parties after Jake had dropped out of Elmdale Community College and realized she'd never put two and two together. Although, she was usually blissed out at that point. Stevie always prided herself on being the girl behind the desk, who saw things that other people didn't, but now she couldn't help but wonder what else she'd missed over the years. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mom said I was really lucky,” Twyla continued, her arms sliding away from Stevie as she reached down to pick up the last discarded outfit, folding as she went. Stevie just stood, staring dumbly at her girlfriend, trying to catch up. “I was almost done with my certificate program and Jake is the kinda guy who doesn’t want to be too involved but would hand out cash if you needed it.  But I just I wasn’t ready. I knew everyone would have been fine and supported me but I...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla trailed off, staring into space while holding up the last piece that needed folding. Stevie tried to get herself unfrozen by trying to figure out how Twyla felt about the story she was telling. She didn’t look particularly sad, her eyes were clear and her face wasn’t crumpled. She looked just shy of her usual serenity, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t think my mom has ever forgiven me but I wanted to be myself before I had any kids. My mom is almost 50 and doesn’t know herself at all. I keep trying to tell her to do yoga and take some time for herself but—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Listening to a sermon on what Teresa might need to do in order to find herself was not what Stevie wanted to hear about. She did want Twyla to keep talking, so Stevie gave a quiet, “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Twyla picked out new pieces from the ones Stevie had brought in. “I drove to Elmdale, had the procedure and stayed in a local motel and was home the next day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The weirdest thing was if you had asked Stevie months earlier, before they’d started dating, if she’d known everything there was to know about Twyla she would have said yes. They were both townies of a similar age in a small town where everyone was fully in each other’s pockets. She had known about all of Twyla’s sprawling family, the men her mother married who were less than stellar, the time Twyla had thrown up in class in the third grade, or her organizing a bunch of girls to do a Spice Girls medley at the junior high talent show. Odd to think that Twyla who told strangers information about her family that most people would hide in the depths of their closets had stories the town didn’t know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Stevie didn't really like the thought of it though. Not that she cared much about the fact that Twyla had chosen to have an abortion. Stevie had been late enough times to know that she would have done the same. It was more or less picturing Twyla having any medical procedure alone that left her uneasy. Had she known at the time. Had they been closer. Still, Stevie was always amazed by how strong and unflagging Twyla remained in the face of every trouble that crossed her path. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla held out the new clothing she wanted Stevie to try. Stevie quickly realized she hadn’t taken off the old ones to try new ones. Stevie began stripping and took the proffered items from Twyla while Twyla picked up all the ones she sent to the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t regret it, but it’s like this weird what if.” Twyla’s smile was still slightly muted as she met Stevie’s eyes. “A road not taken if you will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In another world, Twyla had a child with Jake of all people. Who the fuck would have guessed. A million things crossed her mind to say, but the one that actually came out was,  “You could have a teenager.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s weird, right?” Twyla asked and her laugh was . “Anyways, I got an IUD after that and haven’t looked back. No one I have been with since has really been into kids, or someone who was really invested in our relationships, and I haven’t been ready to take that in all by myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who would be?” Stevie joked, rather than ask if she was someone Twyla lumped in with the others. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My aunt Rosie.” Twyla reminded her, entirely sincere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie couldn’t help the smirk that curved her lips thinking of Twyla’s aunt and her collection of misfit children as she called the kids she took in. “I mean, yes, but like other than that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla laughed, warm and welcoming. “I like this one,” Twyla said,  handing her a purple and blue flannel off of the pile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie took it from her and placed it over the white tank top she had put on. She turned to look at in the mirror and was rewarded with Twyla coming up behind her, head coming down to rest on Stevie’s shoulder. Stevie let herself relax back into Twyla’s embrace. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla beamed at Stevie, and turned her head to press a quick kiss to her neck. Stevie shifted, moving her head to catch Twyla’s lips with her own. She tasted like strawberry and mint and Stevie wasn’t sure she’d ever get tired of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They finished up the stack of clothes rather quickly after that, serious conversation seeming to have stopped entirely as Twyla continued dressing Stevie. Once they'd exhausted all the options, Twyla sorted into neat keep and return piles while Stevie got dressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twyla, thank you,” Stevie said and Twyla turned those owl eyes on her. Stevie felt like she needed to clarify, as there were several things she could have thanked Twyla for. “For sharing that with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twyla leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Stevie's lips. When she pulled back, Twyla handed Stevie the returns pile, a small smile twisting her lips. They stepped through the slightly fraying curtain and Stevie was forced to hand back the returns pile to the dressing room attendant whose name tag read Edna and tried to avoid answering questions. Once the painful exchange was over, Twyla was waiting for her, or at least had moved only a few steps to look through racks of earrings. Stevie hefted her bag further up her shoulder and headed over to Twyla and her already overflowing basket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie headed up and ran her hand over Twyla's back slowly so as not to startle her. When Twyla turned, "Let's go check out. We've been here long enough."</span>
</p><p>Twyla offered her hand and Stevie reached out and took it. They hadn't finished their conversation earlier, not really. Stevie still didn't really know how Twyla felt about kids. As she thought back, the words eventually and maybe popped back into her head. It was possible that Twyla didn't know either</p><p>
  <span>Halfway to the registers, Twyla asked softly, “Do you want kids?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stevie froze, causing a jolt to go up her arm when Twyla tried to continue without her. Twyla froze and raised a gentle eyebrow and Stevie realized she was still waiting on an answer. “I don’t…” Stevie frowned, realizing she hadn’t ever given it a lot of thought other than thinking she was terrible with people, “really know. I figured best to avoid it because Budds aren’t traditionally good at this whole family thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Twyla nodded sagely, as if Stevie had said something profound instead of the garbled mess that had fallen from her lips. She turned and gave a gentle tug and Stevie started walking with her again. Stevie thought of David who looked at babies like they were going to explode if he touched one and knew the fear that came from not knowing what to do with other humans. She also thought of being passed one of Twyla's many infant relatives and the weight of a small being as it curled into you smelling of powder and milk. Her garbled mess of an answer would have to stand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth, Stevie," Twyla said quietly, as they reached the front of the store, "don’t let your family be the only reason you keep yourself from something. You are a great person to have as a part of any family.”</span>
</p><p>Stevie gave a wobbly smile and ducked her head as Twyla started putting things up on the counter for the cashier to ring. She supposed they were both more than the weight of their family history. It was about the choices they made now. And you didn't necessarily have to have all the answers, even if you were hurtling on towards forty. She'd opened a can of worms today that she knew hadn't been closed. Somehow, she wasn't afraid of finding the answers she had been when she'd asked.</p>
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